


Anger Management

by fee_kh



Category: Dark Angel
Genre: F/M, Funny, I hope, Nuts, demented, psychiatrists are probably way more professional than mine is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 22:36:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fee_kh/pseuds/fee_kh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of oneshots, loosely connected, all circling a psychiatrists office. Utterly, utterly demented. What I do best, I suppose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing has changed. Still don't own Dark Angel.
> 
> A/N: I read this throwaway line in a fic , in which somebody advises Ames White to go to anger management classes. And this is what my twisted mind was inspired to.

"Now, Ames, we have discussed this. In order to facilitate you dealing with your anger management issues, we agreed to a group class. I have invited a rather interesting young lady to join us today. I am sure you will find that you have much in common."

Behind Dr. Michaela the door opened and a head, topped by brown curls, popped in.

"Dr. I'm here to - what the hell is he doing here?"

"Her? No way will I be in the same room as that thing!"

Dr. Michaela frowned. "Now, Ames, Max we talked about this. What do you do?"

The Familiar and the transgenic glowered at each other.

"What do we do?" Dr. Michaela prompted.

"Find the happy place." Ames White and Max ground out, refusing to look anywhere near each other. God forbid if anybody ever found out about this.


	2. Common Ground

"He hates me!" Max screamed, then went for the killer blow. "And he tried to kill me. More than once."

Ames refused to say anything, infuriating Dr. Michaela. This meeting was not going the way she wanted, dammit.

"Now, Max I am sure this is just some big misunderstanding."

"No it's not. I have tried to kill her. Repeatedly. And failed." White was having fun. Even if it meant being in the same room as that stupid transgenic, making his psychiatrist unhappy was almost worth it.

Dr. Michaela didn't know what to say, then pasted a sunny smile to her face.

"See this is another reason why I've brought you together. Ames believes he is part of some supernatural thousand year conspiracy. While Max here believes she is a genetically modified superhuman soldier. I feel that if we all share, we can overcome the fantasies ruling our lives and move on to a more social reintegration into society."

Clearly happy with herself she leaned back.

Ames and Max stared at each other, for the first and no doubt the last time in complete accord. One thought written plain across their faces: "Ordinaries!"


	3. Let me check my calender!

The battle was furious, raging around them in a symphony of dull thuds as fists met flesh, low grunts and growls of frustration, when once again neither side was quite able to gain the upper hand. Around twenty transgenics were facing the same number of familiars in a dark alley just outside terminal city. While the main fight was centred around the delivery the transgenics had been awaiting and which the familiars had been wanting to stop, the leaders of the two factions were engaged in a vicious hand to hand battle a fair bit away and out of earshot.

With a grunt of effort, Ames White swung at Max's head in an effort to subdue her long enough to drag her sorry ass away and finish her off.

"So, you going to the meeting on Tuesday?" Max' words were in direct contradiction to her actions as she blocked her adversary's punch and landed one of her own that sent him crashing into a nearby dumpster.

"Hey! Watch the suit. And no, I'm kinda busy on Tuesday. Plus, who wants to be in a room with that lunatic and her lunatic patients?" He charged at Max and tackled her, throwing them both into the wall behind her. Moments later, they broke apart and faced off again.

"Yeah, know what you mean. Considering she's being paid to listen, you might as well talk to the wall, gets about the same reaction." Max aimed a kick at Ames' head.

Ducking slightly, Ames felt the kick go wild and punched Max's midriff, while sniggering. Affecting a high soprano he mocked: "You're only imagining the thousand-year conspiracy, Ames. How would she know. That's the whole point of being a secret society."

Max blocked his punch and answered: "If you went around telling everybody, you might as well take a full-page ad in the newspaper." Her next punch connected and sent him twisting away, but not before kicking her legs out from under her.

"Maybe we should really shock her and bring her proof. See if she has hysterics."

"Yeah, you could bring your lizard man and I'll bring Butch and they can duke it out in the waiting room."

A flurry of blows preceded their next exchange of words.

"It needs redecorating anyway. Plus, added bonus we could show up the next lesson and pretend it never happened and that she had just imagined it all." Max twisted Ames' arm behind his back in an effort to break it, only to receive a kick in the knee in return.

"Bad transgenic! Messing with your shrinks head like that. So Tuesday's out. How about Wednesday?"

Dimly they heard the battle trailing off behind them and redoubled their efforts to finally finish off their counterpart.

"Wednesday is good. Around two works best."

Ames swung once again and received a kick in the face to reward his efforts. When he shook off the effects he saw that Max had once again pulled a disappearing act, as had her colleagues down the road, taking the delivery with them.

Muttering to himself, Ames walked over to his minions, when he heard a whisper from the dark.

"See ya Wednesday, Ames. Your turn to bring the popcorn."

Shaking his head, he strove to hide his grin, all the while thinking that while he hated that darn female with every fibre of his being, it certainly made going to the shrink more enjoyable.


	4. Dealing with Tension

Dr, Michaela was nervous. The last couple of weeks she had noticed a trend between her two most worrisome patients. And she felt it had to be brought out into the open, then maybe the two of them could move on. However, she really, really didn't feel like talking to them full stop. They were kinda scary. But then again that was why she became a psychiatrist in the first place, to help those that were lost in their minds and bring them back into the fold of society, so that they could…

"Yo, doc. You ready for us or what?" A voice jolted her from her mental first draft of her next book. She had a feeling the two people in front of her could fill reams of books all on their lonesome.

"Of course, Max dear. I hope the two of you didn't have trouble getting here?"

Ames and Max shared a glance. The trip over had been interesting to say the least as it had taken them forever to disentangle from the fight they had been caught up in.

"Yup, now worries."

"Trip was fine." Ames added.

Dr. Michaela smiled. "Now, I would like to approach a rather delicate subject with the two of you. Now you know along with the joined sessions I have been having single sessions with the two of you and I have noticed a certain trend I would like to share with you."

Ames and Max shared another look, this was going to be good, nothing like your psychiatrist trying to come up with little theories on how your brain worked.

"Sure thing, Doctor. Fire away." Ames smiled at her.

"During your single session the both of you have talked about the delusions governing and marring your everyday lives."

As one, and unnoticed by her, her two patients shared an eye-roll.

"Now, please don't take this the wrong way, but your obsession with each other is detrimental to the healing process."

Her patients looked at her blankly.

"Say what?"

"Yes, what my slightly uncouth enemy said. Please explain."

"Hey! Who are you calling uncouth you overbred little lapdog of the criminally deluded."

"Now see here, you little bag of reject DNA…"

"Ahem! Quiet please." Dr. Michaela pushed back a non-existent strand of loose hair. "Ever since the two of you met, here in my office I might add, you have featured heavily in each others delusions. And I would just like to let you know that transferring your obvious attraction to each other into fantasies of fights to the death and beating each other up is not exactly a healthy lifestyle choice."

By now her patients had cottoned on to the bush she was beating around in the verbal equivalent of a tribal mating dance.

Ames went deathly white. "You think, that I am attracted to that?" He pointed a shaking finger at the transgenic beside him.

"What? You think I'm not pretty enough?" Max fumed. "Have you looked at the things you call girls, they need to buy their own razors and I'm not talking about their legs! Anyway, like you're such a prize." She turned her head and looked away, willing the blush to die from her cheeks.

Ames backpedalled. "Not what I said. You're very attractive, 452. Made that way, obviously. And what do you mean I'm no prize. Hello, double doctorate in genetic engineering here."

"You think I'm pretty?" Her voice was small.

"Of course." Ames shook his head. "Hang on a minute. What am I saying? You're a transgenic piece of…"

Max glared at him, cutting him off. "Piece of what, exactly?"

Dr. Michaela decided to get back in on the action. "See, this is what I am talking about. In your inability to deal with the unresolved sexual tension between the two fo you, you are transferring those feelings into an environment of hate and violence. Now if you could just go off and deal with it I feel we could be making progress in no time."

And with those words she chucked the two of them out of her office.  
Max and Ames stood in front of the door.

"What did she mean?" Ames asked, plainly confused.

Max looked at him out of the corner of her eye, face bright red with embarrassment.

"She wants us to shag like bunnies." She managed to state bluntly, seeing with satisfaction that Ames face was turning as red as her own.

"Ah!"

Silence fell, as both looked anywhere but at each other.

"So your place or mine?"


	5. Back to Basics

Dr. Michaela was surprised and slightly afraid. Across from her sat a - by appearances - very well-off couple. He was sporting a charcoal grey Armani suit, while she was resplendent in Donna Karan. No mean feat in the post-pulse world, when things like this were especially difficult to come by. And these two were no strangers to her, a couple of years before she had counselled them, freeing them both from the delusions preying on their minds. At no small cost to herself as she had had nightmares for weeks from their imaginary tribulations and battles. It had come as no real surprise to her that these two had ended up together. Patients often developed feelings for their counsellors or other group patients. It was not unheard of, however considering the loathing these two had held for each other, seeing it swing over into lust was an eye-opener and the basis for another one of her papers that had been well-received at last years Psychologists of America convention.

In all her years she had never seen herself as a marriage counsellor, though.

"So, Ames, Max, why don't you tell me why you are back in my office. I felt that our conversations had come to a very satisfying conclusion."

Ames muttered something that sounded suspiciously like: "More like we decided to pander to your insecurities", before ending in a yelp as his wife kicked him less than discreetly under the chair and took over the reigns of the situation.

"Everything is fine. Our marriage is doing well, but it's our families. His family is a bunch of megalomaniac nutcases, with a serious hard-on for taking over the world."

"Like, yours is any better, sweetie. They're a bunch of animals. I mean, take Joshua, he's a dog."

Dr. Michaela sputtered but was cut off at the pass, by Max.

"He is NOT a dog!"

"Is too sweety, you know it, I know it. Anyway he's a dog and he slobbers on the couch."

"No he doesn't! Yes, he does, last time he was over at our place, I found him fast asleep, twitching and drooling all over our new missionary couch. And we only bought it last month."

Dr. Michaela tried to bring the conversation back to the field she felt most comfortable with, applied psychology. "When you say dog, I assume, you're referring to the fact that he is somewhat homely?"

Ames snorted. "No, I mean he IS a dog. You know, pants, wags his imaginary tail and slobbers all over you when he's happy. Not too difficult to handle, give him some finger-paints and he's entertained for hours. Or you know, a bone."

"AMES!"

"What? You know it's true."

"Well, what about your friends? Always going around looking down at me, planning my death and dismemberment."

"They like you. If they wanted you dead they would just kill you."

"That's as may be, but your boss' wife doesn't even look at me. And the other day, she came to the house and tried to smother Junior!"

"Honey, I explained this to you. The first two children are killed. It's tradition. You knew that. I told you that before the wedding. Which if I might add was ruined by that lizard friend of yours.

Dr. Michaela, feeling a little left out at this point, interjected. "And when you say lizard man, what is it you actually mean, Ames."

Her patient looked at her blankly. "I mean he's a lizard. Big, green, slit eyes. Are you deaf or something."

Max sniggered a little. "Now, sweetie, our lives can be a bit overwhelming."

"Yeah, but it's not like she has to live it, right?" He leaned back in his chair, a frown marring his handsome brow. Max soothingly stroked his arm, as Dr. Michaela heaved a deep sigh, mentally seeing months of treatment go down the drain.

"Okay, Max, Ames, why don't we talk about how you really feel and let us get to the bottom of what these delusions really mean."

Ames and Max shared a look. "See, I told you she wouldn't get it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all folks. Tapped out after this chapter.


End file.
